Gentlemen Prefer Blondes
by Hannibal the Animal
Summary: A collection of different Olivia Dunham pairings.
1. Anyone Can See I Love You

**TITLE: **_"Anyone Can See I Love You"_

**PAIRING:** _Olivia/Nick_

**CHARACTERS:** _Olivia Dunham, Nick Lane, Peter Bishop, Phillip Broyles_

**GENRE: **_Dark, Romance, Angst _

**RATING:** _NC-17_

**SUMMARY:** _What if the moment on the roof had ended differently?_

**CHALLENGE: **_Olivia banging someone who isn't Peter Bishop_

**WORD COUNT:** _989_

**WARNINGS:** _It's all covered the genre._

**SPOILERS:** _Episode 1.17 "Bad Dreams"_

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** _Just something I wanted to see if I could do. Song by Marilyn Monroe_

**DISCLAIMER:**   _Your mom_

* * *

"_Anyone can see I love you,_

_Anyone can see I care,_

_The way I hold your hand,_

_And smile in your direction,_

_Tells the world my heart is filled with_

_Nothing but affection._

_Lock me in your arms forever,_

_That's the place I want to be,_

_So anyone can see,_

_That I belong to you,_

_And you belong to me"_

* * *

Olivia leans on the bathroom counter, looking into the mirror over the sink. She's naked, sweaty, and sore, feeling dirty and worthless. Nick Lane is asleep in his bed, sprawled under the sheets, looking rather peaceful for someone who's been meaning to kill himself for months now. And she wonders if his negative emotions have transferred into her as she looks at the shadows under her eyes.

The sex had been intense, sickly passionate—there were times that if they stopped she was certain she was going to die. However she was now second-guessing her decision to come back here to his apartment with him, especially since the FBI had only raided it less than an hour ago.

She wishes she was dead.

* * *

His hands travel across her body, white hands over charcoal cloth. Olive arches beneath his touch, her eyes rolling back in her head. She plants her own hands on top of his, guiding them to all the places she likes to be touched. Breasts, neck, thighs, cheek…

"Olive, did you miss me, too?"

She feels like her thoughts are at the bottom of a lake and she can't find her way through the murk…

She smiles, because she missed him, too.

* * *

Olive takes him by the hand, leading him down a stairwell to avoid the elevator. Fortunately, the cops and other agents were forbidden to come into the building with her so that they couldn't become infected with Nick's emotions, so she now has full access to make a getaway with him.

She locked the stairwell door behind them to keep the infected people on the roof from following and now they're running back to a safe place, his home. She knows that Broyles has pulled the other agents out of his apartment to give full attention to the situation on the roof, as well as keeping this case underwraps as best they could. Which will definitely buy them time while they look for her.

Through a backdoor and on foot, they make their escape.

* * *

She's sat in his lap and she is making wild, feral noises while he's practically singing hymns of his love and devotion to her.

"Olive…I never stopped thinking about you."

He is happy which makes her happy which makes him happy that makes her happy which makes her—_oh god_—_yes_—she has no idea if she was feeding off his pleasure or he off her, but she was getting close—

Olive falls backwards on the bed, panting and convulsing and Lane slumps on top of her, a gail mirthful laughter. But she feels like he's sucked all the happiness, all the life out of her and she wishes she were dead, that she had been the one pushed in front of the subway, the one stabbed to death, the one who fell off the roof.

Lane of course wants to cuddle with her afterwards, something that makes her skin crawl. Shit, she had had a hard enough getting used to the intimacy John liked, so this closeness is so overwhelmingly strange it makes her want to take that glass shard and slit her own throat open—

* * *

He turns around and sees her.

"Olive…I knew you'd come."

Something about the name awakens something within her, like light building within her, ready to burst.

Olive opens her arms wide and Nick runs into her tight embrace. The ordinary civilians stumbled away from the edge, hurrying to her as well, stroking her arms and nuzzling at her neck. The moment they come in contact with one another she feels a certain completeness, like her missing half has finally been found and put back into place. She realises that the six other people are reacting to the extreme love he feels for her and to test it further, she brushes her lips against the corner of his mouth, making a pleased and content noise. It is a very comforting feeling to have all these warm bodies surrounding her, wanting her to feel special.

"Come with me," she whispers in his ear, desperate to understand, to get answers.

He gives a relieved noise, something between a laugh and sob, and like foxfire, she leads him away to his doom.

* * *

Olivia stands in front of the isolated containment cell where Nick slumbers in an indefinite coma. He looks sad, tired, defeated.

She wonders when she'll be next.

* * *

"Olivia!"

Olivia is startled out of her devastated frame of mind when Peter throws his arms around her as she leaves the front steps of Lane's apartment, fully dressed, and the SWAT team swarms in to apprehend the man who trusted her.

"You're okay?" Peter asks as he holds her at arms length as he studies her.

She can't seem to form the words to tell him that she's not okay, that she'll never be okay, that she called Broyles trembling to tell him that she had apprehended the criminal while fluids ran down the inside of her legs. But she's not going to tell the Bishops or Astrid or Charlie the truth. Broyles of course knows—he always seems to know—but she can tell he's saving that information for usage on a later date.

"Fine," she gasps and breaks away from his hands, hating him so much.

Being dragged away with only a pair of grey boxer shorts on, Nick Lane screams.


	2. Heat Wave

**TITLE: **_"Heat Wave"_

**PAIRING:** _Olivia/Astrid_

**CHARACTERS:** _Olivia Dunham, Astrid Farnsworth, Walter Bishop_

**GENRE: **_Smut, humour_

**RATING:** _PG-13_

**SUMMARY:** _In a storage room._

**CHALLENGE: **_FEMSLASH!!!_

**WORD COUNT:** _544_

**WARNINGS:**_ Bewbs_

**SPOILERS:** _None!_

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**_**:**__ Because I felt like it. Song by Marilyn Monroe_

**DISCLAIMER:**   _No, your mom._

* * *

"_We're havin a heat wave_

_A tropical heat wave_

_The temperatures rising, it isn't surprising_

_She certainly can, can can!_

_She started a heatwave_

_By letting her seat wave,_

_In such a way that the customers say_

_That she certainly can, can-can!_

_Gee, Gee!_

_Her anatomy_

_Makes the mercury_

_Rise!_

_To ninety three_

_We're havin' a heat wave_

_A tropical heat wave_

_The way that she moves_

_The thermometer proves_

_That she certainly can!"_

* * *

Soft lips trailed kisses down her neck and Olivia chuckled slightly, giving a quiet moan as she leaned her back against the wall a little further. She was sitting on a rickety file cabinet in the laboratory's storage room with a certain junior agent. They'd both been early to work that morning and something about the way they'd brushed hands when they reached for the door handle and perhaps because they were both a little lonely had led them here to see if they could at least get to second base before the Bishops showed up for work.

Astrid smelled of ginger and Starbucks green tea and she tasted of honey. Olivia decided she rather enjoyed kissing the young woman whom was supposed to be her trainee and wondered for a moment if this was sexual harassment.

'_Probably,'_ she thought to herself but continued groping at Astrid through her blouse.

Olivia had _always_ been a little loud as a lover, and the junior agent pinched her thigh as she moaned a little too loud.

"Shut up, Liv," Astrid muttered throatily as she licked along her clavicle.

"You bit me!" Olivia protested as she helped the other woman unbutton the front of her oxford.

She wrapped her legs around Astrid's waist, holding her firmly in place. Astrid smiled at her, cupping her face as they took the moment to kiss tenderly before Olivia felt her hand start to move up her thigh—

The door was flung open and Walter came stomping in.

"Goddamn flasks—"

He stopped dead in his tracks upon seeing the two women whom were still caught in their embrace, though decidedly less aroused than they had been before.

"Oh, eh, I'm sorry. I didn't realise this room was in use. I was looking for my collection of beakers."

Astrid swallowed loudly and Walter looked as uncomfortable as Olivia felt.

He clasped his hands behind his back, tilted his head to the ceiling and began to rock on the balls of his feet. "So, c-ca-carry on."

"Uh, well, we should probably go to work," Olivia said, suddenly realising she ought let Astrid go.

"And you should probably button up the front of your shirt," Walter pointed out, quite literally.

As if nothing had happened at all, Astrid glided over to a shelf and removed a box filled with glass containers as Olivia stood up from the file cabinet as her fingers moved quickly to close up the front of her shirt.

"Come on, Dr. Bishop!" Astrid called out in an airy, sing-song voice as she left the storage room. "I brought you a cinnamon roll!"

Walter spun around and hurried out the door, declaring happily, "I love sweet things!"

Olivia wiped Astrid's candy-flavoured lip gloss off her mouth as she smugly admitted, "And so do I."


End file.
